


when you're all argumentative

by orphan_account



Series: the arctic monkeys inspired series [4]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Barely any dialogue, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, max is angry and charles is sad, post-suzuka but that's not even important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 22:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21381652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: oh, but it's right hard to rememberthat on a day like today when you're all argumentative
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Series: the arctic monkeys inspired series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537813
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	when you're all argumentative

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song 'mardy bum' by the arctic monkeys

** He tried not** to feel anything, but he’d never been good at pretending.

He was constantly told that he’s way too emotional, overly sensitive, weak and fragile and that he needs to toughen up if he wants to survive in the cold, harsh world they got thrown into when they were kids, innocent and oblivious in pursuit of their dreams.

What even is the meaning of that: chasing aspirations out of their reach and getting hurt with every wrong move they make, every little mistake getting thrown in their faces by their teams, their bosses, the media and fans, every single one of them trying to get a reaction and twisting it once received, what is the meaning of fighting for something worth so little in the grand scheme of things and losing themselves in the process.

It was only natural for them to seek solace in one another; both young boys who made too many mistakes both on and off track, searching for something and hoping to find it in the other, in soft embraces, loving kisses and words whispered in the darkness of a room of another five-star hotel they found themselves in during that week.

They were far too similar yet far too different to truly make it work; Charles was a light, summer breeze on a hot day with the ability to turn into a thunderstorm in a span of few, unavoidable moments whereas Max was a raging typhoon, one which brought destruction and havoc wherever he appeared, so beautiful yet so vicious and lethal.

When they merged, it was ethereal, like a blast from above, greater and more powerful than anything anyone had ever seen, the way they worked in a harmony, constantly overpowering each other and everyone else; when they clashed, it was a massacre, a tragedy with maximum casualties, how their raw emotion and rage created something so heavenly yet deadly at the same time, like two wild predators fighting over a piece of meat and in their case meat was a place on the top step of the podium.

They brought out the worst and the best out of one another, both wanting to get away but getting pulled back in far too easily; in a span of seconds they’d turn from wild beasts into domestic cubs, and then back again, and they hated how easily they fought and then made peace again, hated how they hated each other and then sought solace in each other’s arms whenever something went wrong.

And there they were, in another bedroom of another five-star hotel, throwing obscenities at each other, both of them emotional, both of them wearing their hearts on their sleeves all because of another piece of meat which got stolen from both of them, someone else feasting on it while they were both too busy arguing to notice that it wasn’t them against each other, but them against the world.

Charles had always been told he’s far too emotional, far too weak to survive the cold, harsh winters of the celebrity life, and maybe the people were right in saying so; he tried not to feel anything, not to get hurt by the knives stabbing in his chest with every word that left Max’s mouth as he tried to rid himself of the burning rage consuming him, but it was stronger than him and before he knew it, he was sobbing and Max didn’t stop with his lecturing, the clenching in his heart overpowered by white, hot anger.

And Charles was shaking with silent grief, the summer breeze turned into pouring rain waiting for the inevitable clash of thunder, and Max stopped talking, _finally_, and just looked at Charles; Charles, whose eyes were swollen and cheeks were wet, Charles who looked like he’d been through hell and back, and he probably was, with messing up both Max’s race and his own, and he’d already received a grilling from his team and Max realized he didn’t need even more, especially not from his boyfriend.

Max let out a sigh, shaking his head at himself for going too far once again, for hurting Charles even though he got hurt first, but it wasn’t a competition, and so Max moved closer, heart aching at the way Charles flinched away and whispered quietly, “I’m so sorry,” and Charles looked like a frightened puppy, curling in on himself, the sight making tears well up in Max’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Max tried again, lightly putting his hand over Charles’ shoulder and rubbing soft circles, first tears in forever rolling down his cheeks and Charles sobbed harder, biting his tongue to prevent his thoughts from spilling out and spiralling another argument. Max’s hand moved to Charles’ cheek and wiped away the stains, and he moved closer, pressing a soft kiss to Charles’ forehead, mumbling apologies into the skin.

And Charles finally let his guard down, curling into Max’s side and crying into his shirt, neither of them caring about the mess and Max circled his arms around Charles, holding him close, heart aching at how broken Charles seemed ever since he came into the room and Max inwardly cursed himself for not noticing, for yelling and shouting even though he knew Charles was already hating himself, knew that the Monègasque was both emotional and insecure, the worst combination of them all.

And Max’s rage at Charles turned into rage at the world, for making Charles feel so small and weak, and he tightened his grip, vowing to himself to never make Charles cry again and getting ready to fight against everything that came their way, just to keep Charles happy, and he knew it was far-fetched and most likely unachievable, but he was ready to try and that’s all that truly mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr](https://bakuturnnine.tumblr.com/)


End file.
